It is perseverance through the darkest of times that truly marks the souls of the greatest of men. As the tide rises, carrying with it every ship in the harbor, so too does a man's commitment to the realm elevate all those around him. In pursuit of a brighter dawn, one may offer a lifetime to the forging of a just and noble society. And though the shadow of mortality may claim him before he beholds the fruits of his toil, his legacy left behind is a bettered world. In the face of the abyss, where hope might seem but a fleeting wisp, those who tether their hearts to just purpose shall, indeed, find a profound fulfillment.

- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 A.C

Even through a layer of steel, alien memories and more entered my consciousness in an overwhelming wave that sent me reeling. Senses that I did not possess, feelings that were not mine, traveled across the bridge of my touch with the Mimic.

The collected thoughts of the monster flowed into me in a frozen fraction of eternity. Impressions of shape, sensations, and purpose blossomed in my mind, giving birth to the alien idea of its essence. It was an ambush predator. A monster that preyed on man’s greed and curiosity, it lured them with the promise of rare and valuable treasures, only to snap shut the jaws of its many-fanged trap. A creature of shadow and black. Its kind lived in long-forgotten places of the world - in the ruins of lost civilizations, forgotten temples, and the other darker places of the world.

From the moment it had been born, it had known only one thing. A deep, overwhelming need to consume. And consume it did, from simple rocks and plants, to that greatest delicacy of all - warm yielding flesh. Every day was a battle, and it fought to consume, to consume and to grow. It grew, even eating others of its own kind, such was its all-consuming need to grow and change. As was the nature of Mimics, a seed of consciousness began to form within, and with it a new ability. The nascent creature learned to change its shape, taking on the properties of the things it had consumed. It learned to wait to conserve its energies to bide its time. It learned to change its shape in order to lure its prey.

It became a fully fledged adult Mimic.

The taste of solid steel and hardened leather mixed with blood, bone, and scrumptious innards was, for the Mimic, a feast of experience. With each bite, it could feel and taste new things, new sensations. It saw things, things that made it want something more.

Of all of its kind, the mimic before me had become truly apart and different. The old hunger, the need to consume, though still an insistent thing, lost its edge of command. It wanted to feel the sun, to feel the wind, to be outside of the ever-darkening gloom.

Life began to lose its flavor, as food no longer held its interest. With no appetite, it began to lose its drive to live, and an unusual malaise fell upon the creature. This state that it found itself in was an aberration. For Mimics, their hunger was a very intrinsic part of them. The driving force behind their existence.

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A deep ennui overtook this creature, for life had lost its luster. Oh, how it wished to see the world outside. Food began to taste like ashes, and disinterested, the creature began to ignore its once delicious prey.

As the mimic began to starve, consuming itself from within, it prayed to its mother, the Mother of All Monsters, for salvation from its stagnation. The fickle Divine decided to entertain this strange creature's prayer. Iasis, seeing that this Mimic was unique among its own kind, gifted it with something equally unique, and something that only she could give. Iasis tampered with its life-script, the helix that preordained the shape of all life. She promised it delivery from the hell of its own self-imposed suffering, to give it a new world with a potential bond, the Gir-Shanu, the Change, promising it a host.

And today, the Goddess had finally made good on her promise.

A lull in the flow of memories let me slip back into the here and now, back into myself. The thing was sending out tendrils of consciousness, seeking out a form of symbiosis. Let me help was the mental impression I received across my bond. In my mind the creature formed the shape of my missing shield, dredging it from my recent memories. It was the very picture of what I needed right now. The thing, it seemed, was trying to be useful. Sifting through my memories, it then formed words, gleaning them straight from my mind, in an effort to communicate. The Mimic’s thoughts and desires became known to me. It even wanted a name, of all things.

To my horror, I saw that something else had been flowing into me, organic grey threads that pulsed in time to the beat of my heart. The last of the threads slipped through the gaps in my armor, their invasive presence working their way through my being. Of the chest shape that had been its budding chrysalis, only a thin brittle ash-like substance remained.

The goddess looked down as her gift fused with me, crowing with delight as she clasped her hands together.

In counterpoint to my horror, the power and strength such a fusion, such a true symbiosis could bring me was truly tempting, but in exchange I would be losing myself. I would be something different. And, the last thing I needed was another voice in my head. The dark things in my mind, the current residents, agreed with me, and together we hatched a plan to lure it in deeper into the halls of mind. The crux of our plan lay with my Drain spell. With the old Beastmaster Abas Yar, I had taken something from him when I had cast the spell with a touch. And what more intimate touch was there than the joining of minds?

The voices explained that the spell Drain was more, much more than the simple transfer of vitality. It was the subtle consumption of a being's very essence, the thing that made them, them. The transfer of memories gave evidence to this fact. But how could I target a thing that was within? The very notion was so steeped in the mystical that my modern enlightened mind could find no starting point of reference on how to even begin.

We will do it for you, the dark choir promised, their voices loud and insistent in the hollows of my mind. All I would need to do was cede a little control to them, just a little, and together we would exact our revenge on the things that sought to control us. I found myself agreeing. Better the devil, you know. Besides, the voices sounded familiar, like a long-lost friend, and had, as of yet, never steered me wrong.

Together, we sent out feelings of warmth and acceptance, and the voices opened up a door to the inner parts of my mind. Innocently, the mimic accepted our mental invitation for congress, passing into the area we had prepared for its demise.